Monday, 21 December 2015

I have been interested for a few years in the idea that Antonio, the eponymous Merchant of Venice, is the personification of agape, Christian love, in Shakespeare's play. While the argument I offer here in the week before Christmas has its basis in Christian doctrine as an atheist and a pragmatist I think the case is equally valid for secular pragmatists in emphasising the need to temper facts with values in order to escape the 'iron cage of rationality'.

Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice is thought to have been
written between 1596 and 1598 and was performed by the King’s Men
at James’ I & VI court in February 1605 (Wilson, 1994:707).
Context relevant to this argument is that Gresham College had been
established in in 1598. Thomas Gresham had been born in London around
1519 into a prominent merchant family and was first appointed the
‘Royal Factor’ at Antwerp in 1551 but was replaced during Mary’s
reign (1553‒1558). He returned to public service between 1560 and
1572 working to secure Elizabeth’s crown, notably by manipulating
the Antwerp Bills market to ensure that Elizabeth could borrow
cheaply (Burgon, 2004:9‒12), (Johnson, 1940:594‒600).
When he died in 1579 he bequeathed most of his wealth to charity,
through the Mercer’s Company, and to the foundation of Gresham
College on his wife’s death.

The opening of Gresham College was the culmination of a long effort
in Elizabethan England to bring about the establishment of a
permanent, endowed foundation which would offer instruction and
further research in the mathematical sciences and provide a
convenient rallying point for all who were concerned with promoting
progress in the practical application of these sciences to useful
works.1
(Johnson, 1940::424)

Gresham was England’s most influential merchant of his age and a
prominent public figure.

English merchants had sailed to the Arabian Sea in 1591 and then
petitioned Elizabeth I to support ventures in the East Indies, with
the East India Company being granted a Royal Charter on the last day
of 1600. Elizabeth died in 1603 and within a year of his accession
James VI & I authorised a new translation of the Bible that would
satisfy the Puritan faction without undermining Anglican authority.
The relevance of these observations are that at the time of creating
TheMerchant of Venice the London merchant class was
growing in influence and were associated with the Puritans, well
versed in scripture.

While a popular play, The Merchant is often regarded as
problematic (Midgley, 1960:119). There are a number of themes
that, to many contemporary readers, seem incoherent and the last Act
of the play, coming after the drama of the trial scene, is sometimes
thought of as redundant. The analysis that we undertake is rooted in
Gollancz (1931) and Coghill (1950) that approach the play
on the basis of a medieval allegory and we interpret it in the
context of Renaissance humanism, synthesising classical philosophy
and Biblical allusion. In taking this path we shall present the play
as coherent and justify it on the basis that “Biblical allusion and
imagery is so precise and pervasive as to be patently deliberate”
(Lewalski, 1962:328).

Specifically the play can be read as a study of the four types of
love: storge ‒ familial love;, philia ‒ friendship;
eros ‒ physical love; and agape ‒ spiritual love.
Antonio, the eponymous merchant of Venice, personifies agape, the
highest form of love, and is a Christ-like figure
(Lewalski, 1962:327; Sisk, 1969:219; Coolidge, 1976:256; Hamlin, 2013:71). Agape animates
the central story of the flesh‒bond Antonio makes with Shylock:
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life
for his friends.”(John 15:13) and provides context for Bassanio’s
capture of Portia by solving the casket riddle (Lewalski, 1962:335).
On the other hand Shylock personifies the devil and is devoid of all
love. His only friendship, with Tubal, focuses on business, in
contrast to the amicable relationships of all other characters in the
play. Shylock’s daughter, Jessica, absconds with his wealth, and
what does Shylock love most: his daughter or his ducats
(II.viii.15)2,
pointing to the absence of storge. Jessica trades Shylock’s
dead wife’s gift of a ring for a monkey, severing his connection to
eros. Portia, resident of the heavenly Belmont, represents
Mercy, or God’s Grace, and Bassanio, inhabiting worldy Venice with
Antonio, represents ‘Everyman’. Her obedience to her dead father
in submitting to the casket test emphasises the absence of storge
in Shylock’s relationship with Jessica. Antonio’s willingness
to sacrifice himself for Bassanio so that the young man can come into
union with Portia parallels Christ’s sacrifice for mankind, central
to Augustinian doctrine underpinning Puritanism and ratified by the
Council of Trent in 15473.

The ‘problematic’ nature of The Merchant was highlighted
by Auden (2013) where the play is presented, in ‘Brothers and
Others’, as focusing on a homo‒erotic relationship between
Antonio and Bassanio. These interpretations sometimes begin by
focussing on the melancholy hanging over Antonio at the start of the
play and Salerio’s comment that “I think he loves the world only
for him” (II.vii.50).

Auden recognises the Christian basis of The Merchant
(Kirsch, 2008:94‒96) but misses the significance of
Antonio’s Christ‒like persona and this oversight generates
interpretations such as Ferber (1990) and Berger (2010)
that see the play as unpleasant. The issue is that if Antonio is
Christ‒like then his opposition to Shylock is in Shylock’s
personification of the ‘Old Law’ rather than to his race: “For
the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus
Christ.” (John 1:17). Augustinian doctrine centres on the idea that
everyone is born into a state of ‘Original Sin’, and left to
their own devices they are incapable of being anything other than
selfish; even a ‘good’ non‒Christian acts only in their own
self‒interest. Without Antonio’s agape and Portia’s
Grace all the play’s characters become distasteful to some degree.
In this context Antonio’s melancholy in the opening scene can be
compared to Christ’s loneliness in the wilderness4
or immediately before the Passion (Matt 26:38).

Antonio’s past treatment of Shylock appears ‘un‒Christian’
(I.iii.116‒138) and Shylock seems to be presenting the other cheek.
However, we know from Jessica that from the start her father was
plotting against Antonio (III.ii.296‒300). Also, Shylock’s
reference to Antonio as a “fawning publican” alludes to a parable
(Luke 18:9‒13) where a Pharisee ‒ the pious adherer to the law ‒
is compared to a the publican ‒ who recognises his faults and begs
for God’s mercy (Lewalski, 1962:331). Antonio’s past
behaviour has the dramatic purpose that it inhibits the reader from
seeing Shylock as completely unjustified and theologically it points
to the humanity of Antonio/Christ (Heb 2:17‒18; Phill 2:7).

The relevance of these observations to debt markets are in that
exchange pervades The Merchant. Sharp (1986:261) lists
eleven major exchanges in the play, and in the context of the ten
types of transactions that Seaford (2004:23‒26) gives, we can
add another exchange: the prize of Portia, and her inheritance, that
her father bestows on Bassanio for solving the casket puzzle (Seaford
type (2)). There is the exchange of things for the sake of things
(Seaford (10)); Jessica’s exchange of her mothers ring for a
monkey. A bride-price (Seaford (8)) that Bassanio receives by
marrying Portia and the money Jessica steals from her father and
gives to Lorenzo (Seaford (1)). Shylock is forced to give property to
Jessica and Lorenzo on his conversion, this falls into
re‒distribution to create solidarity within groups (Seaford (4))
while the Duke’s confiscation of his property is a ransom (Seaford
(7)).

There are three rings given as gifts between individuals (Seaford
(3)), including the ring Shylock’s wife gave him and a ring that
Portia’s lady‒in‒waiting gives to Gratiano in conjunction of
the most significant ring, the one Portia gives to Bassanio as
symbolic of all her wealth (III.ii.175) (Newman, 1987). Bassanio
swears not to part with the ring, on his life (III.ii.187‒189), but
gives it to Portia/Balthasar (IV.ii.11) by way of payment for saving
Antonio. In the final scene, Portia realises Bassanio has passed the
ring onto the ‘lawyer’ and vows never to share her bed with
Bassanio until he recovers the ring (V.i.198‒249). Portia was the
lawyer and is able to give the ring to Antonio (V.i.273) who pledges
surety for Bassanio’s good behaviour in the future, and the ring is
returned to Bassanio. Sharp (1986, :254‒257) gives a clear
account of how there is no malice, directed at the possibility of an
erotic relationship between Bassanio and Antonio, in the trick Portia
plays on Bassanio. Rather the ring, as a gift, binds Portia, Bassanio
and Antonio together, alluding to how Grace, Everyman and Christ are
bound in Christian doctrine.

The key financial exchange is initiated by the loan Antonio secures
from Shylock. Antonio is open in his willingness to pay usury for the
loan, in recognition of the fact that there is no friendship between
the merchant and the Jew

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends;
for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his
friend? (I.iii.142‒144)

This alludes to “Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but
unto thy brother thou shalt not lend upon usury: that the Lord thy
God may bless thee in all that thou settest thine hand to in the land
whither thou goest to possess it.” (Deut 23:20). Out of ‘kindness’
Shylock declines the offer to pay usury but imposes a more legitimate
poena, a penalty for default, on the loan: the flesh bond. In
essence Shylock believes he is purchasing Antonio’s life, as
Jessica will later explain (III.ii.296‒300). This contract is ended
in the trail presented in Act 3, and this is where secular
interpretations of the play believe the story should end. However the
essential exchange is between Antonio and Portia. Antonio lends
Bassanio the money so that he can marry Portia and hence Portia
becomes indebted to Antonio. Portia repays this debt the final action
featuring Antonio when she gives news to Antonio that his ships are
not lost (V.i.294‒298). As Sharp (1986:263) explains, the
letter carrying the news is presented to Antonio sealed, yet Portia
knows of its contents. The interpretation is that she wrote the
letter and has repaid the debt ‒ money for money ‒ and highlight
the essential connection between Portia/Grace, Antonio/Christ with
Bassanio/Everyman. Herein lies the key justification for the
religious interpretation: it accounts for the whole play.

The relevance of this interpretation of The Merchant to the
argument in this paper is in the message that the play delivers
concerning the relationship of Justice and Mercy. Shylock stands for
the law (IV.i.104; IV.i.144) while Portia represents mercy (Gollancz (1931); Coghill (1950); Lewalski (1962); Bradbrook (1969) )
echoing the medieval allegory ‘The Parliament of Heaven’ where
humans are judged by a prosecution made up of Truth and Justice and a
defence provided by Mercy and Peace. Coolidge (1976) argues that
in TheMerchant Shakespeare presents the essence of
Christianity, in contrast to Judaism, as in judging not simply on the
basis of ‘the Law’ but also on the basis of mercy: “the manner
in which the complex relation between Gospel and Law can function as
a paradigm for relating Christianity to all the values of humanity”
(Coolidge, 1976:256). He begins his case with a discussion of
usury, explaining how “If justice is the principle according to
which the people of God are to deal with one another, usury is
forbidden among them” (Coolidge, 1976:246). The Law, on its
own, will alienate members of a community where as mercy brings them
together. Coolidge refers to William Tyndale who ‘explains in the
introduction to his translation of the New Testament, the Law,
“through teaching every man his duty, doth utter our corrupt
nature.”’ and “only love and mercifulness understandeth the
Law, and else nothing.” Shakespeare takes a consistent line in
Measure for Measure (Dickinson, 1962; Wilson, 1994).

The question presents itself: why did Shakespeare personify Christ
and agape in the form of the eponymous merchant? It could be
that merchants were perceived as being particularly virtuous, the
doux‒commerce thesis. It could also be because Shakespeare
recognised that merchants were exposed to a particular peril of
focusing on the cardinal virtues of justice and prudence at the
expense of charity; what McCloskey (1998) describes as P virtues
at the expense of S virtues. In presenting the merchant as
personifying the highest Christian virtue he would be engaging with
the Puritan sympathies of the emerging merchant class
(Brenner, 2003:240‒315) and reminding them that they had moral
responsibilities.

The significance of mercy in commerce is not a redundant message
(Rainbolt, 1990). TheMerchant of Venice eloquently
stands against the dominance in finance of both consequentialist
ethics ‒ that transforms economics into a ‘cyborg science’
(Mirowski, 1998; Davis, 2008:357) ‒ and deontological
ethics ‒ that is over-bureaucratic and rigid (van
Staveren, 2007:23‒26) while susceptible to ‘gaming’
(Watts, 2012).

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Reciprocity is a norm, a rule embedded in financial mathematics,
which permits high rates of interest to poorer, higher risk,
borrowers. This means that phenomena such as debt-bondage can become
prevalent (von Lilienfeld-Toal and Mookherjee, 2010). Voluntary
slavery is a limiting expression of debt-bondage (Genicot, 2002)
and by considering the case of voluntary slavery we can highlight
limitations of, not just, basing lending decisions solely on the norm
of reciprocity, but also, of weaknesses of the utilitarian argument
upon which much neo-classical economic theory is founded.

Contemporary deontological ethics, rooted in Kant, argues that one
should “Act in such a way that you always treat human beings as
persons rather than as things” (Ellerman, 1988:1110) and on
this basis slavery can never be justified and hence voluntary slavery
cannot be permitted. There is a problem for consequentialist ethics
originating in Mill’s foundational statement in OnLiberty

the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any
member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm
to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a
sufficient warrant. (Mill, 2015:I.9)

Some modern libertarians believe a free individual is free to sell
themselves into slavery (Nozick, 1974:331). Mill, himself, did
not, arguing in On Liberty that

by selling himself for a slave, he abdicates his liberty; he foregoes
any future use of it beyond that single act. He therefore defeats, in
his own case, the very purpose which is the justification of allowing
him to dispose of himself.(Mill, 2015:V.11)

This presents a Russell-like paradox; you are free to do anything
apart from forgo your freedom. This is the approach taken by Austrian
economists who have a deontological injunction on alienating an
individual from their will.

Fuchs (2001) recognises the inadequacy of this argument within a
utilitarian framework. He notes that for Mill a person is only
competent to judge what is in their best interest if (1) they have
had knowledge of the alternatives in question; (2) the ability to
enjoy the options; and (3) they must be able to foresee the probable
consequences of their actions (Fuchs, 2001:236). On this basis,
along with other consequentionalists (see Schwan (2013:759‒761)
for a summary), Fuchs sees the central issue as the permanence of
voluntary slavery. This argument points to one of the fundamental
weaknesses with consequentialist ethics: the individual’s inability
to foresee that far into the future and explains the absolute
rejection of voluntary slavery by Austrian economics.

Schwan (2013) argues that the ‘permanence’ issue could not
have explained Mill’s objection to voluntary slavery because Mill
was also opposed to ‘coolie’ ‒ bonded ‒ labour, which is not
permanent. Schwan (2013:764‒765) resorts to Mill’s paradox
when he argues that “we know apriori that entering
such a contract severs the connection between the individual’s
actions and their conception of the good.”; ultimately society
knows best.

Fuchs (2001:244‒247) offers a more interesting argument when
he distinguishes two types of autonomy underpinning liberty:
‘autonomy1’
and ‘autonomy2’.
‘Autonomy1’
is associated with “authentic representations of and are coherent
with the agent’s own settled ideals” and Fuchs identifies seven
factors “inimical to autonomy1”
including reversibility and a lack of ignorance, indoctrination,
coercion, compulsion and duress. ‘Autonomy2’
is “more limited” and relates to specific actions: “ one can do
what one wants to do and can refrain from doing what one does not
want to do.” Autonomy1
would permit ‘Mormon marriage’ or entry into a convent where an
individuals rights and freedoms are curtailed.

There are two comments on Fuchs’ argument. Firstly, it seems as
much Kantian as consequentialist (White, 2011:11‒13).
Secondly, Fuchs highlights the elitist nature of Mill’s philosophy.
The autonomous agent must be educated (1), be able to appreciate (2)
‒ a very normative concept, Fuchs (2001:236) compares
appreciating a nursery rhyme to Beethoven, coca-cola to Château
Margaux ‒ their choices and an ability to foresee (3).
Archard (1990:464) points out that Mill approves of paternalism
so long as it enhances the individual’s rationality ‒ education
is compulsory ‒ and so their ability to be free. Arguing that
rationality is based on education implies it is cultural and one
could conclude that Fuchs’ ‘autonomy1’
would prohibit an Aztec willingly going to sacrifice because despite
the act being “coherent with the agent’s own settled ideals” we
could argue that the Aztec has been ‘indoctrinated’.

The relevance of the second comment is that for the utilitarian
argument to hold the agent must be securely embedded in society.
Hirschman (1997) identifies that Smith’s ‘hidden hand’,
and hence the utilitarian argument, must have a stake in society and
international relations are based on “a group of states, conscious
of certain common interests and common values, form a society in the
sense that they conceive themselves to be bound by a common set of
rules in their relations with one another” (Bull, 1977:13).
The libertarian admits voluntary slavery, and by implication
debt-bondage, on the basis that the individual is atomised and can
alienate themselves from society. On the other hand, we argue that
the consequentialist, acting as a Kantian, rejects voluntary slavery
because the individual is embedded in society. This realisation is
driving the “re-introduction of ethics into economics” (van
Staveren, 2008; White and van Staveren, 2013). The
practical implication of these standpoints is the libertarian can
accommodate inequality ‒ because this facilitates the separation of
communities into those capable of rationally rejecting voluntary
slavery and those incapable ‒ where as the ethical economist
cannot.

References

Archard, D. (1990). Freedom not to be free: The
case of the slavery contract in J. S. Mill’s On Liberty. The
Philosophical Quarterly (1950-), 40(161):453—465.

Bull, H. (1977). The Anarchical Society: A Study
of Order in World Politics. Columbia University Press.